


Pinata Novia (version 1.0)

by Ranua



Series: Pinata Novia [1]
Category: Kane (Band)
Genre: First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 07:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5040343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranua/pseuds/Ranua
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(re-edited repost from LJ)</p>
<p>I've always assumed Steve's song 'Piñata Novia' is about sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinata Novia (version 1.0)

**Author's Note:**

> this was previously posted on the Chris/Steve LJ many years ago. In an effort to jump start the muses I edited the bejezzes out of it and decided I still liked it enough to post it here with all my other stuff.

Christian's quiet rambling is the sound track of the evening. We'd split a couple of bowls and were riding that mellow buzz where everything makes sense and all is connected.

I'm so tuned into the cadence of Christian's low rough drawl it takes me a moment to realize he'd stopped. 'No man, don't stop.' I needed him to continue. The rhythm of his words brought out the music that slept in the bottom of my soul.

'I wonder what it's like.' Came the low, lazy mumble.

With eye's slitted closed and fingers ghosting the chords I could almost see forming around his words, I replied, 'It's fantastic. Nothing like it in the world.' And there wasn't anything like the music we made together in my head.

'It doesn't hurt?'

'Oh no, it's smooth and powerful, no pain, my man.' I drawled. The sounds we were creating together were so perfect I was itching for pen and paper. I knew though, that anything I wrote down wouldn't come close to capturing the music I could feel right now. I just couldn't reproduce sober what I could feel when I was stoned with Chris.

'That chick last week? The blonde'

I frowned a little. This is our time and I didn't like even the mention of other people to intrude. There is no blonde chick in our music, only us. It's all about Chris and me, but I could live with it. 'Um hum,' I encouraged. Drama, drama is good in music.

'She was playing with my ass while she blew me. When she slipped a finger in I shot harder than I can remember. Got me wondering.'

'Yeah man? Wondering about what?' I mumbled, only half my attention on Chris. I was trying to chase the fleeting threads of sound. This always happened. The music evoked when we were together like this, mellow and content, never lasted long enough. I would concentrate to hard or outside influences would intrude, and it'd vanish.

'Yeah, made me wonder what a dick would feel like.'

At his words the music stopped and my full attention snapped to Christian. The idea of him thinking about a dick anywhere in relation to his ass was mind blowing. Yeah, I'd given thought to tapping that ass, but only idle thought, passing thought. The music was too rare to fuck up like that. Besides, the man was down home southern straight.

'A what?' I choked, 'A dick? Seriously?' Eloquent I was not, but this was so out there I couldn't think through the pot haze.

Christian shifts toward me, eyes intent. If I hadn't just smoked with him I'm not sure I'd believe he was high, his eyes had such intensity. 'It's like being a musician man. How can you say you're a good musician if you don't experience all kinds of music? So, how can you call yourself a good lover if you can't appreciate different kinds of love?'

It makes sense, Chris is always on about appreciating all facets of something, be it music or food, or apparently sex. 'So what man, you want me to tell you how it feels to have a dick up your ass?' I never made a secret of my lack of preference in bed partners, but Chris has never asked about any of them either.

'No, no, no' Christian shakes his head so hard the longer strands on top flop back and forth. 'I want you to show me man.' The pot drawl thick in his voice again. 'Words ain't experience.' 

His earnestness strikes me as funny. 'Chris,' I chuckle, 'you fucking me isn't going to show you how it feels to have a dick up your ass.' Just the thought turned me on though. There is no way it'd happen. As much as I love the man I won't let him ruin our friendship over drug induced sexual curiosity. He'll sober up and remember what he did and the music between us will sour. Nothing is worth that.

'No,' he shifts closer until we're touching, his chest pressed to my side, leaning toward me, one hand on the back of the couch and one on my thigh, the closeness as intoxicating as the weed we'd smoked. 'You fuck me.' 

All I could see was the electric blue of his eyes, and as his words penetrated my haze my jaw dropped. 'Chris,' I start to protest, anything else is cut off by his mouth covering mine. All rational thought stops as the music winds up from inside my gut and overwhelms my mind. 

I barely hesitate before diving into the heat of the mouth playing with mine. This, this is where the music is. The strands of sounds we make just hanging out together pale in comparison to what I can hear and feel now. It blows any objections away. These are the sounds I've been trying to chase down all these months.

I hardly feel Christian shifting onto my lap I'm so wrapped up in the play of our tongues and teeth and lips. His weight settling against my groin draws a groan from us both. Slouched on the couch, ass at the edge of the cushion, Christian plastered along my chest, his knees spread wide on either side of my hips, heat building between our bodies my pot soaked senses are overwhelmed.

'Steve,' Chris growls in that husky drawl, grinding his ass against the bulge in my pants, 'please.'

'Yes,' I don't know or care what I'm agreeing to. I'm high and the music is flowing through my head and everything is perfect. The idea of being able to sink into Chris makes me want it like I need air. To break him open, splay him out like a book to read. My touch bringing him to that place where nothing matters but more. To be inside my best friend in the most intimate way possible.

And he wants it too.

Time slows as we kiss and rock against each other. I push my hands into his hair to feel it pull through my fingers; loving how it twists and curls through my hands in a riotous mess of rings and waves.

Chris' hands on me feel hot as brands; one curling across my cheek and ear, thumb stroking at my temple, fingers of the other rubbing and twisting in the hair at the back of my head.

Running the nails of one hand down Chris' spine causes him to wiggle against me. At the hem of his shirt I reach under to palm the small of his back, pressing us together.

The pounding of my pulse, the wet spit sounds of our mouths, the little grunts and moans as we rub together provide depth and resonance to the music in my head.

The hot, smooth feel of skin under my hand makes me want more. Letting go Chris' hair I use both hands to pull up his tee. Bumping him brings his head back, a drugged out glaze of bliss filming his eyes. 'Off, off,' I grunt. A momentary look of confusion passes over his face before me pulling on his shirt registers.

As he sits up all his weight rests on my hard dick. The moan that breaks from me gets a sharp, predatory grin. 'Oh, darlin,' he growls, pulling his tee over his head, 'you sound so sweet.'

'Always sound good with you,' I reply, 'perfect music.' I curl into him to bite at a dark, hard nipple. Christian arches into the pull and it brings us back down. His hands braced on either side of my head hold him at just the right height for me to run my hands and eyes over the smooth expanse of his toned chest.

'Stevie', he whines, 'wanna feel you.' He sits up again trying to get his hands under my shirt. As I sit up to pull my shirt over my head, Christian slides backward off my legs to land on his ass, a comical look of surprise on his face. With a giggle I slide off the couch too, kneeling in front of him.

Forcing serious through the haze of lust and pot I slip my hands into Christian's hair. 'Baby,' I drawl. This is a big deal. I want to hear the music we can make together with a ferocious intensity, but the very thought that what we already have could be damaged leaves a chill discord in my belly.

Christian leans up and into my space, hands mirroring my grip. 'Trust you,' he shakes my head a little, leaning in forehead to forehead, eyes closed, voice quiet with intensity. 'Spirit boys together man. Not just wondering.' His voice is low and intimate, words forced out honest as only being high makes you. 'We sound so good together, wanna hear a new song.'

Those words, it's like he's inside my head, saying the things I'm thinking. Just like in everything else, in this we're together, in harmony, playing our give and take in a new way, but still the same.

The intensity of the moment holds as our mouths met again. Letting the buzz from the pot roll back in, there's no need to do anything other than feel.

I stroke down Christian's face, across his cheeks, down his neck and shoulders. He mirrors my every touch until there's no difference between who leads and who follows.

There's no rush to finish, no harsh groping, only slow languorous touches as we sprawl across the carpet together, rubbing and touching. Wiggling out of my shirt, the first touch of skin to skin makes me want to melt into Chris to stay. Licking along his neck makes him tip his head back, giving more of himself to my exploration.

Every touch and taste feels magnified through the haze of pot. The slow build of arousal while high has always been one of my favorite things, but this is different. This is the most important, most intimate, experience of my life. It needs to be as perfect as I can make it.

I pause at the waist of Chris' jeans, I need to be sure that he really wants this, wants me. I'm not so far gone that I can forget this could ruin the music and friendship between us. But, God, do I want this new song to play out.

'Christian,' my voice comes out nearly as rough as his. I lick Chris' belly and bite sharply at his navel. The body under me bucks and twists.

'Dammit Steve,' Chris growls, 'touch me.'

'Are you sure? You really want me?' I'm a little shocked at how vulnerable I sound. This is important though, special.

Even through his own haze Chris must pick up on my uncertainty. He rolls up to a sitting position wrapping himself around me. Getting a hand in my pants, Chris grabs my dick. 'Darlin,' he husks, 'want this, want you.' 

We lose ourselves in deep kisses, licks and nips at jaw and lips. 'Yeah,' I growl into his mouth. Pulling back I continue, 'Don't wanna get it wrong. Too important.'

'Can't get it wrong darlin', not together.' There's a raw honesty shining in his eyes that takes my breath away. The trust Christian is giving me is astounding. I want, no, I need, to be worthy of it. Gently I push him back down and start again at that sinful mouth. Nothing is stopping me now.

Slowly I work my way down Chris' chest. Taking time to taste every bit of skin, every dip and contour. Getting down to his button fly I'm not surprised to find no underwear covering the trail of wiry hair the popping of each button uncovers. Christian is lost in sensation, head rolling back and forth hands alternating between touching me and grasping at the carpet.

With only a little help from Christian I get his jeans worked over his hips and down his thighs, getting them as far as his knees before becoming distracted by the newly bared skin. Feeling possessive, I suck hard at the soft skin high on the inside of his thigh, leaving a darkening bruise. The feral flush of 'mine' through my thoughts surprises me. I've never considered myself possessive of Chris before, but I want badly to erase the very thought of the blonde chick who made Chris consider sex with a man, even though I'm oddly grateful to her too.

Restraining myself, I give only a brief nuzzle to the base of Christian's straining erection, pinning Chris' hips to the carpet a the subsequent buck. 'Shh, baby, I got ya.'

Panting harshly, Christian glares. 'Damnit, Steve,' he cusses me, 'you're killing me here.'

'La petite morte,' I laugh breathlessly.

Chris kicks and wiggles to work his jeans down and off. Grabbing one flailing leg I bite the underside of his knee causing even more kicking. 'No, you bastard,' Chris laughs, 'I'm ticklish!' The laughing and cussing making the best music I've ever heard.

Holding the leg straight in the air I lick and suck at the back of his knee leaving another mark of ownership as Christian twists and moans beneath me. Lowering his leg to the floor, leaves me framed between Chris' spread thighs. Languidly I run my hands over every bit of skin I can reach.

'Steve, please,' Christian moans, straining to get my touch where he wants it. 'I need ya.' It's as close to begging as I've ever heard him. 

'Yeah, I got ya.' Holding the compact body under me down tightly, I lick a wet trail from the base of Chris' cock to the tip. Done with teasing the both of us, I suck the crown tight between my lips, pushing back against the expected thrust. With one forearm pining him across his hips I work Chris' dick in and out of my mouth; loving the feel of the hard length across my tongue and the flavor that bursts of precome leave in their wake.

A wave of jealousy crashes over me, bringing a desire to completely wipe the thought of any one else from Christian's mind. Practically growling, I set about showing him how much better a blow job can be from a guy. It's not just having first hand experience with the equipment, it's being the same size as your partner; being held down and moved to your partners whim. A woman just can't manhandle you like that. The lack of control and powerlessness adds an edge they can't provide.

Reaching to the side where me guitar case lay, I fumble one handed for the lube I know is in there. Pot and lust dumb reflexes make a mess of opening the slick. Coating nearly my whole hand I drop the tube with no regard for it's landing. With gentle fingers I rub excess slick across the tight ring of muscle. Imaging how hot and tight it will feel has me nearly coming in my pants.

Chris wiggles against the pressure on his anus. 'Please' he whines. Encouraged I slip a finger in and Chris bears down against it filling himself faster than I would of. With a deep moan his hands migrate to my hair, he's so gone on sensation he's not polite about it at all. Seeing and feeling Christian this far gone on the sensations I'm giving him turns me on even more. I'm not sure how much more I can take.

'More,' Chris pants out, working himself between my mouth and hand with jerky movements. With less care than I ought to use I get a second finger pressed in beside the first. Pushing in and up hard I hit Chris' prostate more by luck than planning. With a strangled cry, he pushes back hard on my fingers as though trying to get them deeper.

Christian's fingers are threaded tight into my hair, all consideration or politeness gone as he thrashes and fights the hold I have on his hips. Moans and whines have replaced any coherent words, making a sound track worth any Oscar in my book.

I sink down, nose to pubes, as Christian arches his back with a moan that sounds like it's ripped from the bottom of his soul. He comes in heavy spurts down my throat. Pulling back slowly, I lick and swallow to get every trace of Chris I can.

Even as Chris comes, he's still working himself on my hand. It's the hottest thing I have ever seen. He lets go my hair, pulling at my shoulders. Fingers still buried deep, I lean toward him as he curls up into me, meeting halfway with panting open mouthed kisses. As Chris falls back to the carpet he's panting, 'Please, . . God please . . . need something. Jesus . . fuck.'

'I know baby, I got ya,' I sooth, petting at Christian with my free hand, the other still working at stretching the tight ring of muscle I hope to be buried in soon. 'You're so damned tight, . . . don't wanna hurt you, . . . gonna feel so good, . . .gonna make it perfect.' 

Chris' begging has turned to wordless moans and grunts as he works himself against my hand. Pulling my fingers free with a wet slid, and wiping my hand on my still denim covered thigh I grab a condom from the mess I'd pulled out of my guitar case in my fumble for the lube.  
As perfect as I want this to be I don't think I can wait any longer. Messily smearing lube everywhere, I pop open my jeans, shoving them down my thighs. Releasing my dick from the tight confines of my pants has me humping air and it's with trembling hands I get the condom packet open. Rolling it down my shaft is an exercise in self control.

Chris is spread wantonly, writhing against the carpet. I hitch in closer, lifting Christian slightly to better line up, the head of my cock just teasing the entrance to his body. The feel of him pushing back on my hold wears at my willpower.

'Chris, baby, look at me. Open your eyes.' It's important we make this connection. This is special, sacred. There's only one first time. There's only one first chance to hear the music inside break open and spill through us like the cracking of a pinata.

When his eyes meet mine, I'm blown away by the emotion shining up at me. Slowly, gazes locked, I slide into the tight embrace of Christians body. Muscles straining, I go as slow as possible, causing any hurt is the last thing I want.

'Ah, Steve,' is the breathless exhale from Chris.

'I got ya, . . . just relax. Trust me, . . . perfect, . . . so right.' Bit by bit, Chris does relax, going all but limp in my embrace, trust shining in his eyes. I slide the last inch and freeze, fighting to keep my eyes open and locked on Chris' face. My arms and thighs tremble with the need to thrust home into the willing body under me. I wait what seems an eternity for some sign Chris is ready.

'Oh, God,' Chris moans, 'feels, . . God.' Head lolling on the rug, his eyes slip shut, totally lost in sensation.

'So tight,. . . all mine, . . . no one else.' I'm no longer surprised by my feelings of possessiveness. Being the first man to have Chris this way means something. The music we make together is the most important thing in my life, but this, now, with Christian, this connection outstrips any music by far.

There is no way I can go back to just friends after this. This is too profound. Like a wedding night. A sacred bond between us and if the look in Chris' eyes is any indicator, he feels the same way.

The moment breaks and unable to hold back any longer my hips snap back and forth in a relentless rhythm. Chris meets me thrust for thrust, grunting and moaning with abandon. It doesn't take long before I can feel the build of orgasm gathering. Two, three, four thrusts have me coming with body wracking shudders.

Frozen for long moments, I slowly come back to myself and collapse against Christian's chest. Both of us are panting and sweat slick. It's the most fantastic thing I've ever felt.

'Darlin',' Chris croons, his fingers stroking through my hair. I know we're going to have to talk about this. But for right now, Chris' voice crooning nonsense into my hair is the only music I ever need to hear.


End file.
